


The Ship of Theseus

by patchpuppe



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Acceptance, Anarchist Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Anxiety Attacks, Caring Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Identity Issues, Loss of Identity, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mythology References, Near Death Experiences, Pandora's Vault Prison, Phil Watson Tries (Video Blogging RPF), Philosophy, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Psychological Trauma, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Nearly Dies (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Triggers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchpuppe/pseuds/patchpuppe
Summary: “The great philosophers posed the question: if over time every part of the ship was gradually replaced with new wood, was it still Theseus’ ship? Or was it an entirely new vessel? After thousands of years, there’s still no decisive answer.”They fell back into silence. Tommy frowned slightly at Techno. “You’re saying that I’m a different person now?”-After being retrieved from Pandora's Vault, Tommy is confronted with how his trauma affects his sense of identity. Technoblade- ever the nerd- introduces an ancient Greek philosophical puzzle to provide some clarity.
Relationships: Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 245





	The Ship of Theseus

_“The Greek hero Theseus was said to have a ship. After slaying the minotaur in the Crete labyrinth, it carried him home to Athens victorious. The ship, which was made of wood and had thirty oars, was preserved and Apollo was praised for keeping King Theseus safe.”_

When Tommy was retrieved from Pandora’s Vault, Tubbo and Ranboo were there to welcome him back to life. Tubbo swung an arm around his shoulder and smiled widely, not noticing how Tommy flinched at the touch.

“Dude, we thought you were dead!” He yelled. His excitement was palpable. Tubbo and Tommy had been best friends since before L’Manberg was even around. They’d been through everything together.

But what Tommy experienced in that prison was not something Tubbo would ever understand. 

He put on a smile for his friends and said, “You think death could keep me from annoying you? Nah, I punched my way out of hell with my fists!”

It made Tubbo laugh and he took Tommy by the arm. The three of them trotted away from the prison, which Tommy was thankful for. He didn’t want to spend another second near that place. While he was thankful to be free, he did not doubt that this was the beginning of a different kind of imprisonment. A mental kind. 

“We have so much to show you,” Ranboo said. Tommy was lead along the prime path, which felt weird to walk on. He never thought he’d hear the squeaking wooden planks again. It was music to his ears. After spending twenty-five days stuck in that prison cell (and _months_ in the afterlife), everything about the world seemed to be… more meaningful. Tommy couldn’t describe it any other way. All he knew was that when he looked at Tubbo, he wanted to cry.

Before they got close to their location, Tubbo asked Tommy to close his eyes. It was an innocent request yet it made Tommy’s heart race. Closing his eyes… being in the dark again? He never wanted to be there again.

“C’mon, just for a second. We’re almost there!” Tubbo pled while jutting his bottom lip out into a pout. Tommy shakily squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Alright, but someone will have to guide me.”

The hand placed on his lower back made him squirm. It didn’t matter that the touch was friendly- it set off alarm bells in his mind. Tubbo’s warm grasp on his wrist made him squirm. He tried to remind himself that it was Tubbo and Ranboo, Tubbo and Ranboo, his two good friends. They would never hurt him. But the darkness brought out panic in him. Panic that stung his eyes like prickling tears.

“Open up in three, two, _one!_ Ta da!”

Tommy was quick to open his eyes again and get a feel for his surroundings. Right, where were they… in front of a quaint little build that was still under construction. Foundations had been placed down but the build still had a scaffolding exoskeleton.

“Welcome to the Bee n’ Boo hotel!” Ranboo exclaimed. Tommy blinked a few times as he took in the build. His two friends started to explain their plans and how they’d got married for tax benefits and now had a child called Michael but Tommy struggled to take it all in.

He was only gone for three weeks. How had everything changed since then?

“Tommy?” Tubbo’s voice plucked him out of his dread. His tone was polite as he asked, “Do you like it?” 

“Yeah.” Tommy struggled to speak past the lump in his throat, “It’s really great. Well done, lads.”

Ranboo put an affectionate arm around Tubbo and settled his angular chin on his head. Since when had they been so close? 

They told him they had to get back to work but were very glad to see him doing well. Tommy forced his mouth into a smile so wide the corners of his lips met the brown bags hanging underneath his eyes. Tubbo quickly asked if he would be alright making his way home, and he froze. _Where was home?_ But before he could answer, Tubbo was running off, distracted by an animal in the distance. Ranboo darted after him excitedly. 

The pleasantness of it all made Tommy feel bitter. He’d died and his friends cared more about showing off their stupid hotel? At least Dream showed interest in what the afterlife was like…

_No, no, don’t think that. Don’t favour him_ , some distant voice in his head pled. That’s exactly the kind of tactic Dream employed during exile. His words, no matter how kind they were, had an underlying message of control and forced dependency: “They don’t care about you, but I do.”

He lumbered along the prime path, feeling as if there were anchors attached to his red Converse shoes. L’Manberg looked so different from how it was three weeks ago and yet nothing had really changed. He was shocked to find memorials to him, grand statues erected in his memory, and stopped to stare at them for some time. Not admire, just stare. If he hadn’t died, there was no way these statues would’ve been made. No one carried about alive Tommy. Once they learned about his miraculous revival, they would surely be torn down. He would be back to being the server nuisance. 

His feet carried him to his base. The little hobbit hole excavated into the side of a grassy hill. It had once served as the L’Manberg Embassy. Thinking about those simpler times made Tommy feel so old. Back in those revolutionary days, his biggest problem had been allowing Wilbur to turn his home into an embassy. He’d felt so annoyed about it but eventually gave in. He’d give anything to go back to those simpler times. Everything went downhill after he discs.

Tommy couldn’t bring himself to enter the base. He stood at the end of the dirt path and stared at the double wooden doors. Someone had decorated the path and hill with flowers. It was a nice touch but they were beginning to wilt. Besides, Tommy was a big man- he shouldn’t have flowers around his house. 

He knelt down and started to gather the flowers. He’d find a lava pit and burn them. Or maybe he’d be environmentally friendly and put them in a composter. He was reaching for a white tulip when he realised what position he was in. Knees and shins against the ground, back as straight as a ruler, totally defenceless. The last time he was like this his skull was being smashed in.

It took a long time to die, even longer when mining fatigue made everything so painfully slow. Dream’s rough hands had a vice-like grip on either side of his head. Over and over again, he rammed Tommy’s head into the rough obsidian wall. Dream’s mask had fallen off at some point, revealing a murderous grin and crazed eyes. It was scarier than the blank smiley face that taunted Tommy during exile. Spit spewed from Dream’s mouth as he screamed, “Is this real enough for you, Tommy? Is this real enough for you?”

Tommy's shaking hands trailed up to the back of his head. Underneath his blond curls, he could feel not even a single scar on his scalp. Dream had obliterated his skull into a thousand pieces and then sewed it back together as if nothing ever happened.

The only proof of Tommy’s death was the trauma it left in him. The terror strewn across his expression was a testament to Dream’s sadism. The last thing he heard before death was laughter- Dream laughed as life was beaten out from him. 

He lurched as he vomited. Stomach bile splattered onto the grass. The action was so violent he had to steady himself on his hands. Tommy breathed heavily through his nose and stared at the green blades. He was so hungry. His head ached. 

_I should’ve stayed dead,_ Tommy thought, _At least people cared about me then._

He had no energy to move. Whimpering, he curled up on the grass and shut his eyes. He wanted to die. To jolt awake in the afterlife and be confronted by Wilbur and Schlatt again. It would be better than this newfound weakness he was experiencing. When did he become so weak?

_“The ship was treasured by the Athenians. When it began to rot and ruin, they were distraught. The worn material of Theseus’ ship was replaced by new wood every time. Eventually, it became unknown how much of Theseus’ original ship remained.”_

It might’ve been minutes or hours later when Phil arrived, Tommy was too far gone to tell. His head was swimming, vision blurred with tears, and he thought the flapping of wings was an angel coming to retrieve him. Black feathers fell from on high and Tommy only knew of one person with black wings. 

“Hey, Toms.” Phil’s said. He stumbled slightly as he landed. His wings were damaged in Wilbur’s explosion and hadn’t healed yet. Flight was not impossible, but it was usually caused more trouble than it was worth.

Too exhausted to be deal with Phil’s jeering, Tommy sat up and hid his face in his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m getting up. No need to call me lazy.” 

“Actually,” Phil moved his hands away. His touch, quick and fleeting, burned. Their eyes locked for the first time in months and Tommy was met with the truth that so much had changed since then. He thought post-exile would be his all-time-low. He had no idea what was coming. With the pad of his thumb covered with the sleeve of his robe, Phil wiped away a spot of mucus on his cheek and continued, “I was going to ask if you needed a place to stay.”

Tommy nodded quickly. In the moment of clarity Phil’s abrupt presence provided, he realised that being alone was the last thing he needed right now. Shakily like a baby deer, he got to his feet. The world spun around him, but Phil was there to be his anchor.

“I’m still angry at you.” He said, too tired to enunciate each syllable as he used to, “For Doomsday.”

“You have the right to be. I did what I had to do and I knew the consequences. But right now there’s something more important than grudges.” 

Tommy frowned. Practically every war of recent times was waged because of grudges. There was nothing more important than a grudge- especially in a server like this. 

But for now, he would humour Phil by taking his arm and walking through the Nether with him. He was taken aback by the lava- the ocean of fiery hot goop instantly reminded him of Dream’s prison cell. He’d considered jumping into the lava so many times, just ending it quickly, but Dream told him it would be painful. 

Phil noticed his accelerated breathing and said, “We can take the other route home.”

Tommy shook his head. He meant sailing through the Arctic Ocean. It was a much longer journey and any hint of being a hindrance would push him over the edge. 

“We’ll just- go fast.” He muttered. 

“Alright. Give me a shout if you want to turn back.” 

The path to the Antarctic Anarchist Commune’s nether portal was thin- too thin for Tommy and Phil to walk side by side. Phil went first, walking with ease and experience, and Tommy followed. It felt like walking on a needle-thin tightrope. _Don’t look down, don’t look down._

“Tommy.” Tommy could barely hear Phil over the rapid pounding of his own heart. He turned around and looked at him with a pitying look while holding his arms out. “Come here.”

“W-What?” 

“I’ll give you a piggyback.” 

Tommy felt torn in two. One half of him wanted to yell and swear that they were enemies and there was no way he’d get so close to Phil. The other half was tired, so very tired, and had no energy left to fight. 

Phil stretched his wings out as Tommy clambered onto his back. He put his arms around the man’s neck loosely, trying to avoid any unnecessary contact. His legs went around Phil’s middle as he clung on like a sleepy monkey. Dark feathery wings came down to cover his back, they made Tommy feel warm and secure. The silky feathers felt much nicer than skin. They were softer, kinder. A slap from them wouldn’t leave a lasting sting.

Phil was slowed down considerably with the child on his back, but at least now Tommy didn’t fear the dangerous pit of lava below them. He couldn’t see beyond Phil’s golden blond hair. With it out of sight, he almost forgot about it, believing the Nether’s warmth was from the feathers that cradled his back. It was like being wrapped tightly in a warm blanket or a hug from Tubbo. 

The chill of the Antarctic came as a shock to him. He shivered and tightened his hold around Phil’s neck, not wanting to let go.

“Almost there now. We’ve made a couple improvements to the commune.” 

Phil was right. There was now a fence encircling the commune and a whole new building connected to Techno’s cabin. It was built in a similar style to its twin but had its own charming individualities, including a fish pond underneath its decking. 

Tommy only slipped off of Phil’s back when he felt like he was about to fall asleep. The man shook and stretched his wings before removing his shoes and outer robe. 

“Go sit by the fire and warm up. I'll get you something to eat, how does that sound?” 

“Heavenly.” Tommy sighed. He trailed to the fireplace and flopped down on the sturdy armchair sitting by it. There was an animal pelt draped over the back which he pulled onto his lap. He stroked the thick brown fur thoughtfully while the sounds of Phil in the kitchen faded into white noise. What he would’ve given to have something like this during exile…

Staring into the orange flames, he was brought back those terrible times. When Dream manipulated him to be entirely dependant on him then burned everything he’d built for himself before his eyes. It was chilling the amount of harm Dream had caused him, yet his mind drifted to him often.

For how long would he live with these contradictory feelings? He knew Dream was bad- he had to trauma to prove it- but his brain was still wired to consider him a friend. Someone to trust when the rest of the world turned its back on him. Tubbo had Ranboo now and they were busy working on their hotel. They had no time for him anymore, they were probably happy when he died… 

Tommy felt like he was dying all over again. Like his soul was being stretched and shred. He was distantly aware of the sharp nails clawing at his scalp. Clawing, scratching, the same way he’d scratched at the obsidian in that horrible place…

“Hey, Phil. Ready for book club- ohhhhh, never mind.” 

Out of everyone on the server, Tommy never thought it would be Technoblade who grasped his hands, pulling them away from his head and inspecting the blood with a shaky sigh. Tommy jerked his hands away and brought them to his chest protectively. No touching- he can’t deal with touch right now.

“Oh, Theseus.” He tutted. He was dressed casually in tight black trousers and a loose linen shirt that was only buttoned up half-way. No armour, no weapons. It had been a while since Tommy saw him looking so casual.

Phil came in with a plate of toast at that moment, and almost dropped it in shock when he saw what Tommy had done. He let out a shaky sigh and put the food aside in order to tend to the kid. Tommy felt so stupid for making them worry. He used to be able to look out for himself, he never used to need someone else to bandage his wounds. 

“What happened to me?” He whispered angrily through stinging tears. He looked at the fire, feeling as angry as the flames. What had Dream done to him?

“Calm down, mate. Deep breaths.” Phil’s care was patronising. 

“No- no! I was never like this! Never! I’ve always been able to take care of myself. I was fine before- before Dream- before exile. But now- now I can’t even be touched or have my eyes shut. Can’t look at lava without thinking like I’m back in that hellhole with him. And I can’t- I can’t sit on my knees without feeling his hands on my head, smashing my skull into the obsidian.”

He felt his face crumple and he let out a frustrated sob. “I-I don’t know who I am anymore.”

All was silent for a few moments, the crackling and popping of the fire suddenly sounding very loud until Techno dragged a wooden stool out to sit by Tommy. The stool was short, meaning the man had to bend his legs at an awkward angle to accommodate himself. He looked at Tommy with the same stony expression as usual. He used to poke fun at how impassive he always looked. Now he understood.

“Have you heard about the Ship of Theseus?” 

A few months ago, Tommy would’ve groaned. _Not the Tee-thee-us metaphor again! Don’t talk all nerdy, you’ll put me right to sleep_. But now, he shook his head and allowed Techno to explain. 

Techno had a good storytelling voice. His pink eyes did not waver from him throughout the entire duration of the tale. It was a wonder that his brain had the space for all the complicated Greek names and details but he was able to recount the events as if he was there as they happened all those thousands of years ago. Surprisingly, Tommy found the tale of Theseus and his ship captivating.

“The great philosophers posed the question: if over time every part of the ship was gradually replaced with new wood, was it still Theseus’ ship? Or was it an entirely new vessel? After thousands of years, there’s still no decisive answer.”

They fell back into silence. Tommy frowned slightly at Techno. “You’re saying that I’m a different person now?”

“Maybe. If that’s how you interpret this philosophical conundrum. Is it, Tommy? Do you think that you’re a different person now to who you were before?” 

“I…” 

He certainly wasn’t the same as he was when L’Manberg was formed. Oh, how he missed L’Manberg. How he longed to feel the same way he did as he watched Wilbur draft declarations. Excitement had bubbled in his stomach like an explosive potion and he had to fight to rid his face of a childish grin. Building the protective walls had seemed tedious at the time but the motion was repetitive and soothing. Nothing could go wrong as long as he was within those walls. Those safe walls where all his friends lived, singing songs around a campfire and welcoming him with open arms. 

Tears dribbled down his face pathetically. That was what he was now- _pathetic_. The old Tommy, the loyal L’Manbergian soldier, would rather be caught dead than cry in front of anyone- never mind his sworn enemies! He would’ve inserted himself back into Tubbo’s life at any cost. He would’ve fought back against Dream. Would’ve grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back until his head was absorbed by the lava-

_Not the lava_. But the scent was already invading his nostrils: pungent sulphur, so strong he felt like he could choke on it. He- he was choking. He was choking on his trauma.

“Calm down, Toms. You’re alright.” 

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.”

He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t.

The fire was blown out and the damaged teenager was lead upstairs to the attic bedroom. The sun was slowly setting, casting long shadows across the blue antarctic landscape. It was peaceful out here, a far cry from chaotic L’Manberg. The west wind tickled the leaves of the few spruce trees that stood on the edge of the anarchists’ fiefdom. It was the kind of scene he could only appreciate now.

Tommy watched it all with tired eyes. Phil’s room had no bed, instead, there was a big mound of pillows and furs arranged in a nest-like structure underneath a long, thin window on the far wall. The last of the day’s sunlight bled in through the window, casting the nest in cosy orange lighting. As he settled in among the warm coverings, he felt his tense frame relax. He melted into the softness. 

Phil flung a thick knitted blanket over his body and stood back with a gentle, satisfied smile on his lips. Techno stood beside him looking pensive as always. 

Tommy rubbed his cheek against the blanket. It was so nice, so warm. Safe. He'd stay here forever if he could. 

Acceptance sunk in unwillingly. Like a weight bobbing in the water before finally dropping down to the seabed. 

He thought on his realisation for some time before sighing shakily. He could feel the anarchists’ presence still in the room.

“About Theseus.” He began shakily, “If the ship is replaced completely, then it’s no longer his ship. It’s different.”

Techno hummed thoughtfully. “If that’s how you interpret it, sure.”

Tommy could hear the smile in his voice. Likewise, he could hear the exhaustion in his own speech as he murmured, “I’ve never felt tiredness like this…” 

“Go to sleep, mate. Sleep for as long as you need.”

Tommy could’ve fallen asleep dreading the effects trauma would have on him or lay awake all night terrorised by fire and brimstone flashbacks, but he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to clear his mind. To melt further into the nest’s warmth and the golden glow of acceptance. Acceptance that he was broken, and acceptance that it was okay to admit it. For now, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> hi ! i moved ao3 accounts ! sorry if there has been any confusion. I also made a [twitter account](https://twitter.com/patchpuppe) so we can all be friends. 
> 
> thank you for reading ! please remember that I am open to constructive criticism.


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